


In Paris

by insouciant



Category: Midnight in Paris (2011), War Horse (2011)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1920s, Alternate Universe - Movie Fusion, Angst, Drama, M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-03-26
Updated: 2012-06-21
Packaged: 2017-11-02 13:27:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 17,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/369461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/insouciant/pseuds/insouciant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In Paris, a war veteran from England and a writer from America fall in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

Jim has come out to the park early in the morning to distract himself from his daily nightmares. Nightmares about his lost friends. The broken promises that will haunt him for the rest of his life. He's deep in thought as he works on his sketch of the Parisian scenery when a strong wind blows away his sketches from his hands. Damn, he says. His leg is another reminder of the terrible, foolish war. Sometimes even a simple walk was a painful task.

 

As Jim grabs his walking stick to grab his blown away papers, he sees a tall figure leaning down to pick up his sketches. He sees Jim and walks towards him, handing back the sketches. His blue eyes meet Jim's. Little early for a morning walk, don't you think, he asks as he smiles gently. Jim feels uneasy as his hand meets the man's. It could have been the sun rising behind him, but the short contact leaves his hand and his body, warm; a warmth he hasn't felt for years now, after isolating himself from everyone and everything that reminded him of the war.

 

Maybe he was getting tired after the endless nightmares that left him cold at night. Maybe he wanted someone to hold him and tell him that everything will be fine whenever fear attacks him viciously with flashbacks of the day he lost the one he loved so dearly. Maybe it was the man's gentle smile as he, once again, held out his hand to introduce himself. Scott Fitzgerald, he says. After the firm grip, the warmth spreads throughout his body again.

 

Jim doesn't know what to say. This strange, but familiar feeling leaves him speechless. The feeling he once felt when Jamie used to smile at him in the early mornings after their secret affairs. The man just smiles and continues talking as if nothing's strange about this moment. He talks about Paris, the music, the parties, and then, he talks about Jim. How he sees him sometimes in the park and watches him draw as he writes. Jim just listens and nods.

 

Scott smiles brightly as he sees Jim slowly smiling back at one of his jokes. And that's how Scott Fitzgerald, the writer from America, and Jim Nicholls, a veteran from England, met and fell in love in Paris.

 


	2. Chapter 2

It was a short encounter. After the man introduced himself, Scott Fitzgerald, he said, and continued talking, all Jim could do was stare into his eyes and listen. When Jim finally adjusted to the strange warmth that swept through his body, he actually smiled at one of the man's jokes. An American. Just as tall as himself. Jim could smell a bit of alcohol on him. So not an early bird, but a night owl, he thinks. The way he spoke, his gestures, his laughs, and his confidence almost made Jim be envious of him. It's been long since he has had any joy in his life. Jim almost surprised himself as he was smiling back at him.

Just as the man was telling him about this nice cafe around the corner, someone shouts his name from a distance. Both men turn to the sound. A woman with curly, blonde hair. The woman, swaying here and swaying there as if she's drunk, calls for the man once more. I should get going now, he says. His eyes go back and forth from Jim to the woman. Jim simply nods. He doesn't know what else to do. He thinks the war really did take away everything from him, even his social skills. The man smiles and his hand lightly touches Jim's arm as a sign of good-bye.

Jim Nicholls, Jim blurts out as the man turns around for the woman. The man turns back with his eyes wide. "I never got to introduce myself to you, Mr. Fitzgerald. Jim Nicholls." Jim thinks this is the longest he's spoken in a while. The man's smile widens. "Call me Scott, Jim. I'll see you later."

As the man, no, Scott heads towards the woman and away from Jim, his heart aches a little. Jim doesn't know why. Well, he does know, but he just doesn't want to admit it that deep in his mind, he's afraid to see another person turn away from him. Never to come back to him again. Never to feel the warmth again. Jim shakes his head as he, too, turns away and heads back to his little apartment.

It could have been just another day, but it ended up being something else. Something that made Jim's heart skip and ache, all at once. Scott Fitzgerald, Jim carefully repeats his name. Scott Fitzgerald.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the first time since coming to Paris, Jim has company.

 

Jim had a very monotonous life in Paris. He wakes up, goes to the park to draw or read, goes back to his apartment until it's time for bed. He does nothing and goes nowhere. Well, besides the market place he goes to shop for food. His family writes him regularly and sometimes he writes them back, but he has refused their visits and turned down their requests that he return to England.

 

There is nothing left for him but pain in England. But then, France is just as painful. France is where he lost him. England was where it all began and France was where it all ended. And Germany is responsible for causing it all. Yes, it's about the Great War. But no, it's not about the Great War. It's Jamie. It was war. It was Jamie.

 

It agonizes him that Jamie and the war seem inseparable now. Jamie's memories shouldn't be tainted with horrid memories of war. Damn everyone for their folliness thinking that the war was worth it. Damn me. Damn me every single moment of my life to think that it was worth it. Worth the lives of millions of men. Wasted.

 

Jim bitterly laughs as he sips his glass of wine. Maybe he should write a book about a tragic love story. A love destroyed by war. Maybe he'll get rich off of it. Everyone seems to be publishing something these days.

 

Jim goes to bed early that night. It was one of those days. In the dark, no one can see Jim's body shaking. Shaking because he can't take it anymore. All the regrets. All the things he could have done. All the things he shouldn't have done. No one can hear his sobs as he buries his face on the pillow. No one knows anymore, because no one is there anymore.

 

\-----

 

Sometimes, he carefully thinks of the good old days when he used to enjoy life. How he used to go out and have fun meeting people, riding horses, and laughing until his stomach hurts. When everything in life seemed brighter and more hopeful. It hurt to think about them. Those good old memories always come with pain.

 

What I had was everything. And everything was lost. And all I have now is nothing.

 

Jim thought he was having bad day yesterday. Now he thinks he's having a bad week. Well, there's only one thing he can do to make his day a bearable. He grabs some papers and pencil and heads out to the park.

 

\-----

 

Jim looks around the park filled with people enjoying the great weather as he sits down on his usual bench. Sometimes he wonders why he's even in Paris. Nowadays, everyone seems to be coming to Paris. All the writers, all the artists, and all the musicians. And all the other people. Maybe he should move to some place else where it's quieter.

 

"I was looking for you."

 

A soft voice says behind him close to his ear. Startled, Jim instinctively jumps up from the bench and almost instantly loses his balance and falls on his back to the ground. Damn, damn leg. Jim silently curses as the pain shots through his leg. The man, who caused this all, quickly runs to help him up.

 

"I am terribly sorry."

 

He apologizes a few more times as he brushes the dusts off Jim's sweater and pants. Jim's face flushes as he feels the man's hands on his back, on his legs, and on his arm.

 

"It's, it's alright. Just... I wouldn't do that to a soldier if I were you."

 

Jim smiles back at the man so that his guilty expression would go away. It's Scott Fitzgerald again. Jim's been thinking about him. How can he not? He wasn't able to shook him off his mind after that early morning encounter. After the warmth left his body, after Scott left for that blonde woman, he felt colder than ever. He has forgotten how lonely and cold he was until he felt this warmth again; the warmth that spreads through your body of being together with someone you think dearly of, someone you love.

 

"So you fought in the war?"

 

Instead of answering the question, Jim gives him a reluctant smile. He doesn't want to talk about it. Talk about anything relating to the war, though everyone seems to want to talk about it, argue about it, write about it, and everything else. Maybe he shouldn't have said that he was a soldier. Maybe he shouldn't have said anything.

 

"I stopped by the park yesterday on my way to meet some friends, but I didn't see you. You probably were here and I probably stopped by the wrong time, but I got worried for some reason. Sorry to surprise you like this. I guess I was too happy to see you."

 

His eyes. His voice. His smile. They're quite mesmerizing. He's quite handsome, too. The words coming out from his mouth, they sound earnest, not just a passing by "how do you do". Jim can't hide his smile from Scott's genuine concern for him. And how can he not answer him sincerely when he's being so kind?

 

"I... my mind was troubled yesterday and I thought it better to stay in, but I was wrong. I already feel better being out here."

_  
_

_Being out here seeing you._ Jim wants to say, but swallows it. Scott's face darkens with Jim's response.

 

"Would you... like to tell me why, or what troubled you so much?"

 

Once again, with a reluctant smile, Jim shakes his head. _Not yet. Just not yet._ Jim doesn't think his mind's quite ready to spill his troubles out to someone. Afterall, he's only met Scott a few days ago. Though Scott smiles back at Jim, his face still looks concerned.

 

Jim sits back on his bench, grabs his papers, picks up his pencil, and begins sketching as usual. Honestly, Jim doesn't know what else to do. Scott simply watches Jim for a while until he quietly sits next to him.

 

"Do you mind if join you?"

 

"No, not at all. You're more than welcome to."

 

Jim and Scott look at each other. Both of their eyes such a similar hue of blue. Soon after, Jim sketches a passerby with an odd attire while Scott continues his writing from the night before.

 

Neither of them really understands yet why they are so drawn to each other. But sometimes, it's better to let your heart lead the way and push aside the logics.

 

It's beautiful as ever in Paris with the sun shining down and breeze coming through. For the first time since coming to Paris, Jim has company.

 


	4. Chapter 4

 

Between Jim drawing and Scott writing, there was a comfortable silence. Two men doing what they enjoy the most. Jim was surprised of how strangely comfortable he felt with having someone beside him. It's been a while. He never expected himself to be with someone else, no friend, no family, no lover. It seemed like a just punishment for all the lives lost along and under his command. But here he was, meeting someone who made his heart skip a bit at first sight in Paris, where he planned to die alone without company. Scott Fitzgerald seems to have broke the pattern. Everything so suddenly, Jim thinks as he observes the lessening crowd in the park.

  


Jim turns his head to the right to see Scott writing with a frown on his face. Writing and writing, then scratching off the whole paragraph, only to write more words. Bringing imagination to life, I see. Jim smiles as he sees Scott so serious. Jim slightly cringes as he smells alcohol on Scott. It's too early to judge one's character with only two encounters, but both of the time, Scott had carried along the smell of alcohol. Never a good sign, Jim thinks to himself.

  


"Glad I'm of interest to you."

  


Jim realizes Scott's eyes on him and turns his gaze away from his, with a slight flush on his cheeks. Scott's warm laughs fill Jim's ears. He feels Scott's slight touch on his arm.

  


"Well, with this being our second meeting, I believe we both owe each other a more proper introduction. We only know each other's names and I'm dying to know more about you, Jim. What do you say?"

  


"There's not much going on in my life. Honestly."

  


Scott looks at Jim with incredulous eyes. Jim doesn't know what else to say. So he turns to his papers and fiddles with his pencil. He can still feel Scott's gaze and of course, he can also feel his face and neck slowly warming to his gaze.

  


"Well then, I'll go first. My name is Scott Fitzgerald, once again. I am a writer. I recently moved to Paris. So far I am loving every moment of it."

  


Jim may have been mistaken, but Scott's voice sounded bitter. Maybe he's not enjoying every moment in Paris. Was it the language? Was it love? Was it... that woman? Why am I even worried, Jim thinks.

  


"Come on, Jim. Your turn."

  


"Well, I'm Jim. Nicholls. I moved to Paris a few years ago. Before that, I was in England with my family."

  


"So, what do you do?"

  


"Nothing."

  


Oh, is the only thing that comes out from Scott's mouth. For the first time, he seems to have lost words to reply to. Of course, people would think. A man without a job. How does he live? How does he support his family? Has he no dignity? People cannot help but gossip and meddle with others' business, though not needed. Jim hopes this wouldn't be a repeat of what happened in England. One of the reasons he left England was for such tiresome people. So that his family wouldn't have to suffer with him anymore. So that people would just leave him be.

  


"I was enlisted. I wanted to join the war. Funny thing is the war was over even before I got shipped to Europe."

  


"You should be happy. You didn't miss anything. Anything at all."

  


"So, were you an officer? A young, handsome commander with all his valor marching forward to the enemy lines with his brave comrades!"

  


Back to his bright self, Scott sounds as if he's reciting from one of those war pamphlets urging more men to enlist. More men to die in vain. Without a purpose. Their was no honor in dying in such horrid war. Swallowing his bitterness, Jim simply nodded and forced a smile on his face.

  


"I was a captain. In the British cavalry. But those days are in the past now, and I no longer wish to talk about them."

  


"You remind me of someone I know. Not sure if you heard of Hemingway."  Scott says as he takes out a cigarette from his jacket. He offers one to Jim, only to have the offer turned down politely as Jim shakes his head. War has affected Jim in everyway possible, but fortunately, he has found a way to suffer through it without the help of alcohol, or even smoking.

  


"Believe it or not, Mr. Fitzgerald, I do read the papers and I do keep up with current events in Europe, especially in Paris. And yes, I do know Mr. Ernest Hemingway and I am also aware of your fame."

  


"Stop being too formal. Just call me Scott."

  


The smell of tobacco surrounds both Jim and Scott. Scott simply stares at Jim through the foggy smokes. Both are silent as he finishes his cigarette.

  


"Is she your wife? The woman from a few nights ago."

  


Well, so much from staying out of one's business. Here he is, trying to meddle in something he shouldn't. But he wants to make sure. He wants to know what this man's intentions are. Why, when Scott is already surrounded by so many people, so many talents, is he approaching him? Did he spark a curiosity in Scott because he looked so lonely? Did he look pathetic always sitting on a bench drawing, never with anyone? Was he pitiful with his walking stick, a young man who should be full of spirit already looking like a dying plant, withering? If those were the intention, Jim didn't want company. Having someone is so much to go through all over again, if that someone is only planning to leave at the end.

  


"Yes, she is. Her name's Zelda. And yes, she's the woman you saw last time. I also have a young daughter. What else would you like to know about me? Hmm? What else, when you keep so much to yourself?"

  


Scott's face hardens. His voice is harsh now. As Jim bites his lips, Scott stands up from the bench throwing the cigarette to the ground. He folds his notes and papers and puts them back in his jacket. He's not sure whether to leave or stay. He's not sure about anything, either. Scott is acting on his instincts. He saw Jim and he liked him. He finally got to talk to him, but Jim's bringing up Zelda, someone who he does not want to talk about at all right now. Rage boils in his chest. It's better for me to leave than stay, he thinks. He looks at Jim for a moment before he walks away.

  


"I'm sorry, Mr. Fitz- Scott. Please, do try to understand me."

  


"How will I be able to understand you when you don't tell me anything about yourself?"

  


"It's been a while! I've... I've been alone, completely alone, for a long time. I just wanted to make sure. Make sure that you weren't here with me only to leave."

  


Again, Scott seems to be having trouble finding the right words, but he stops from walking away. In a quick moment, he understands that walking away, turning his back to Jim, will be the worst thing he could do to him. Shaking his head, Scott sits back, next to Jim.

  


"Well, Jim, I can't see the future. I don't know what's going to happen. I could be staying here for the rest of my life, or I could be heading back to America."

  


The sadness in Jim's eyes were unmistakable. Oh, Scott, what have you gotten yourself into? This isn't right. Scott is tired. Tired of having these not-so-happy relationships. Scott doesn't even know why he tries anymore. He's tried so many times with Zelda, only to face the same frustrating situation over and over again. But he still wants to try. With Jim, especially, he does. He wants to meet someone who doesn't judge him only by his reputation and his works. He wants to meet someone with a fresh start, both from knowing nothing about each other to getting to know each other. He wants to know Jim. Scott reaches for Jim's hands.

  


"I don't know what the future's holding for us, but for now, I really want to continue this. This odd... thing we started. I apologize for walking out on you. It's just, Zelda's been... I don't even know what to say anymore, Jim. But I promise, I will not walk out on you, again. I promise, but you have to let me in, Jim. I'm honestly quite tired of being the one trying to win someone's heart, but here I am, still trying. But Jim, you have to open up so I can get in."

  


With Scott's pleading voice and his hand squeezing his own, Jim couldn't help but nod. How can he not? He had unexplainable feelings for Scott from their first encounter. If Jim thought those feelings weren't important, he would have simply let Scott walk away from him instead of trying to reason with him, to make Scott understand what he's going through.

  


"I will, but like I said, it's hard. I haven't had company for years. I must ask for your patience with me. But I will try. I do want..."

_   
_

_ I do want someone by my side. I want you. I want you, despite the fact that you have a wife and a child. I want you, not as a friend, but more than that.  _ Jim swallows it. Swallows it all. He knows Scott wants to stay, but as what? A friend? or more than that? He can't tell yet. He can't just say those words. Scott might leave if he says such. So instead, Jim swallows them all.  Scott gently holds his hand and rises from the bench again.

  


"Shall we take a walk? I'll buy you a cup of coffee afterwards."

  


"A cup of tea will be better for me. I already have trouble sleeping."

  


Jim smiles back at him as he sits up from the bench with Scott's hand still holding his. His leg is a bit stiff and needs some time to adjust to a different position and Scott patiently waits for him, talking about the weather, the people, and places he needs to go tonight to meet up with someone.

  


They walk through the park slowly, once again, Scott talking and Jim listening. Their fingers brush each other's all through the walk.

  



	5. Chapter 5

 

The walk in the park was pleasant. Slow, because Jim’s leg was causing trouble again, but pleasant. Slow walk meant more time to chat. Scott was back to his chatty self throwing a joke here and there. Jim appreciated how Scott easily gotten over the small quarrel they had. He was relieved that Scott didn’t walk away from him. And he was glad that Scott was still walking beside him keeping his pace slow for him.

 

Also, Jim was quite nervous of Scott’s subtle touches—a slight touch on the shoulder, his arm, and his hand. Whenever Scott’s hand met Jim’s he couldn’t help but blush or turn his eyes elsewhere, anywhere other than on Scott. Of course, Scott couldn’t seem to get the smile off his face.

 

\---

 

The café Scott led Jim to was small and much less crowded than other places. It was a convenient place for the both of them. For Scott it was a place away from the many people he was acquainted with and for Jim, the smaller the crowd the better. As the conversation continued with a cup of coffee, and tea, Jim was amazed of how often Scott travelled around America and Europe and how many people—more like, what kind of people—Scott was acquainted with. All the writers, all the artists, all the musicians and even more.

 

Jim thinks for a short minute of the people he’s been acquainted with so far. Jim cringes and lets out a short laugh as he realizes that all the people he’s known were either killed in war or lost contact with when he left for Paris.

 

“I can’t even think of five people,” Jim says as he shakes his head.

 

“Well, I guess we’re both out of luck when it comes to friends then,” Scott replies as he puts a cigarette up to his lips. He breathes out the smoke towards Jim’s face with a mischievous smile.

 

“Scott, you just told me the countless number of people you’re acquainted with.”

 

Jim waves his hand around to get the cigarette smoke out of his way and Scott purposely continues to blow the smoke towards him until Jim finally reaches for Scott’s cigarette held hand. After a whole minute of pushing and pulling of hands Jim finally gets the cigarette and tosses the cigarette on the ground.

 

“I knew you had it in you to get angry!” Scott laughs as Jim glares at him and shakes his head. However, it was obvious that even Jim was suppressing his laugh. Their hands are still held together but no one moves to pull their hands away. After a bit of laughing and teasing glances, Scott continues the conversation.

 

“Knowing countless people doesn’t mean I have countless friends, Jim. They’re just acquaintances, no more than that. The people I know, they’re nothing more than competitors. It hurts me to admit it, but that’s the truth. I am surrounded by people who would leave me in a second for their own success.”

 

 _Including my wife_ , Scott mutters under his breath. Jim doesn’t know what to say. He opens his mouth only to close it again. He doesn’t want to make things worse by carelessly choosing his words.

 

“Scott, I was also surrounded by people whom I considered rivals. However, they were also very close friends of mine. They were people I would gladly entrust my life to. They were my fellow officers. I was envious when one of my good friends was promoted to major, but at the same time, I was happy that it was him, not others, who would be leading me in battles. Don’t you think that’s part of life? There are people whom you consider enemies and there are people whom you consider friends, but sometimes a few can be both. Though I do not know your friends, I am quite certain that they will still be with you no matter how envious they may be of your success. And as for your wife, don’t you think you’re twisting the truth too much? She’s your wife. She loves you more than anyone else. That’s why you’re her husband and she your wife.”

 

“Yes, and that’s why she had an affair with that Frenchman.”

 

 _Oh…_ Jim bites his lips. He wasn’t aware of _that_. _That_ explains why Scott was so sensitive when Jim asked of his wife. Maybe _that_ is also why Scott always carries the smell of alcohol with him. What if _that_ is the reason Scott has approached him in the first place? Is he simply looking for a new company? If it’s something more than a simple company he wants, was this a retribution to his wife for what she’s done? Jim cringes at the thought. He slowly pulls his hand from Scott’s grip. Jim could feel Scott’s eyes on him. And he certainly hears Scott’s frustrated sigh.

 

“I cannot speak for Zelda about her feelings for me. However, I can definitely speak for myself and I can tell you that I have never loved anyone more than I did her. She was my God. She was, no, she is… Damn it, she WAS the beginning and end of my everything! She was all I needed. I wanted to become a writer, but if she wanted me to quit, I would have! But she wanted success. She said she would marry me if I became a successful writer enough to support her life and mine. And I did! I became successful and now she hates me for my success! It makes her angry to see my works become famous while she still struggles. I gave her success because that’s what she asked of me, but now, she will never be happy because of it. I will never be able to satisfy her.”

 

The silence that came afterwards lasted for a long while. Mixed emotions flooded the men and words were swallowed down with them. Scott’s eyes were full of pain and frustration. All the feelings twisted in one man’s heart. It was all too much. Too much burden to bear.

 

It was precisely at that moment Jim realized that it wasn’t war that took everything from him. Yes, of course, war took many things, but nothing Jim couldn’t have lived through. But there was one thing that war shouldn't have taken from him that was gone now. That one thing, that one person that makes it so difficult for Jim to wake up in the morning and so painful to sleep at night. It was Jamie. It was _love_. It was his love that war took from him. And his love was everything he had. _The beginning and end of my everything_. Scott’s words echoed in his ears over and over again.

 

True love once found becomes the center of one’s life. It becomes everything. With such love lost, life becomes nothing. It’s the beginning of nothingness. And that nothingness is too much. Too much for anyone with a broken heart to bear.

 

“So it’s not just friends we’re out of luck with then,” Jim tries to force out a smile, his voice quite hoarse from trying to hold back his tears.

 

“God, aren’t we both such emotional saps?”

 

Scott lets out a laugh, but his eyes are just as teary as Jim’s. He shakes his head as he realizes that this was only his second time meeting Jim. At their first encounter, they've only known each other’s names! And here he is sitting with a man who he barely knows, yet, ranting about his problems. He hasn’t been this honest about his relationship with Zelda with anyone. _What a fool you are, Scott, what a fool_. Scott looks at Jim ready to apologize for all that unnecessary information he didn’t have to hear, but is surprised to see the understanding smile Jim gives him. It was a sad smile, but it was comforting.

 

Ever since Scott first saw Jim in the park, alone sketching people passing by, he feels as someone has cast a spell on him. Just the sight of him brought him comfort. Until that early morning, when he finally had the courage to approach him with a bit of help of alcohol, Scott simply watched him come and go, always showing up around the same time and always sitting on the same bench.

 

Believe it or not, from the countless many Scott was acquainted with, the one he was closest to was solitude. Never has he felt so alone surrounded by all those ambitious, talented people. And then he found Jim. He was always there. Always alone in the crowded city of Paris. And though it seems strange, it was this comfort that led Scott to be honest. _And I have just confessed my biggest issue to him_. Honestly, it was quite embarrassing, but once again, Jim’s smile made the shame go away. His smile, no, his simple presence, for some unexplainable reason, was such comfort and consolation to him.

Scott checks the time from his pocket watch and clears his throat.

 

“I must get going soon, but I’d really love to walk you back to your place if you don’t mind.”

 

“Scott, I am not some woman in need of protection. However, if you insist-”

 

“Oh, yes, I insist, Jim. I insist.”

 

Scott stands from his chair and holds out his hand as if escorting a lady. Jim also stands from his chair and simply turns his back from Scott’s waiting hand and begins to walk away from the café slowly.

 

“I’ve lived in Paris longer than you have and know the place better than you do. If anyone needs protection, it’d be you, Mr. Fitzgerald.”

 

“Alright, alright! I just wanted to see where you live, that’s all. Now give your poor leg some time to adjust!”

 

Jim turns around and sees Scott and his gentle smile. This time, Jim holds out his hand towards Scott with quite a mischievous smile.

 

“Now, Mr. Fitzgerald, if I may guide you to my humble abode.”

 

Scott burst into laughter, but nonetheless holds Jim’s hand. It was another slow walk of the day, but obviously pleasant for the both of them.

 


	6. Chapter 6

 

The walk back home ends up being simply a walk back home, because Jim would not allow Scott to step a foot in his apartment. And of course, that was exactly why Scott wanted to walk Jim back home. Well, that and to spend more time with him. However, Jim stands between Scott and the door to his apartment.

 

“It’s not like I would care if your place is messy,” Scott says.

 

“Who says my apartment is untidy?” Jim raises one of his eyebrows as if offended. “I allowed you to walk me back home because you insisted, Mr. Fitzgerald. Now go socialize with your friends.”

 

Scott huffs out a laugh and throws his hands up as if surrendering and reluctantly agrees to leave. He was simply curious. He wanted to see where Jim lives and more so, how he lives. “At least now I know where you live,” he mutters.

 

“And I’m pretty certain that I can find where you live by simply asking a passerby in Paris, what with all your parties and friends you have,” Jim says with his voice playful.

 

Scott can’t help but laugh, happy to see Jim’s mood better than other days. “Well, I’ll see you later then. And thanks for spending the time with me this afternoon. And the talk… and everything else,” Scott’s voice wavered as he thought of the conversation at the café.

 

“And I also thank you, Scott, for everything. I have to admit, I haven’t talked with anyone for this long in quite a long time. We definitely haven’t known each other for long, but… I feel comfortable with you. And… I only hope that our meetings will continue in the future,” Jim fails to meet Scott’s eyes as he struggles to find the right word for their so called meetings. _Friendship? Love? An affair?_

 

The atmosphere that was filled with liveliness, all of a sudden, becomes an awkward silence and surrounds the both of them. For a short moment, their eyes turn to gaze on everything but each other.

 

“I really must get going now,” Scott’s hand reaches out and Jim mistakes it for a handshake and reaches out his hand just the same. But to his surprise, Scott’s hand lingers over his cheek for a moment, so close from feeling the warmth of his reddened face, only to have it lowered to give a gentle squeeze on the shoulder instead. Embarrassed, Jim quickly withdraws his hand.

 

“See you again soon, Jim,” Scott throws him a gentle smile and turns to go down the stairs.

 

As Jim hears the sound of Scott’s footsteps fading away, he turns around to rest his head on the door, or more like butt his head on it in frustration. He regrets being hesitant. Oh, and of course, he had to mix up the sign of affection for a mere handshake!

 

“Jim Nicholls, you fool,” Jim mutters to himself.

 

∞∞∞∞∞

 

 

Jim stares at the ceiling in the dark without being able to fall asleep. It’s been five days since he’s seen Scott, not that he’s counting days. He’s not sure if he should be worried or angry, or not care about it at all. He’s been to the park every day since their last “meeting,” but Scott was nowhere to be seen. Of course, he didn’t go to the park to meet Scott. He goes to the park every day anyways to find peace away from his nightmares.

 

 _Nightmares_. Surprisingly, Jim hasn’t had nightmares for nearly a week now. He thinks it’s because he’s been distracted with other thoughts. Thoughts other than war and death. Jim is thankful for this distraction and only wants this distraction to continue.

 

Jim thinks about Scott. _Maybe he’s busy._ This afternoon, he almost had the urge to ask about Scott to his neighbor downstairs, a middle-aged British woman who enjoys gossips more than anything else. Of course, he didn’t. _He must be busy with his writings_.

 

Jim knows he’s over thinking, that he’s over reacting, but it’s been so long, so long since he’s felt anything like this. This feeling that delights him also scares him. He’s not sure if he should push it away before it gets any deeper or reach out and grab onto it. He’s just not sure and not being able to hear from Scott, without any other means of communication besides Scott’s surprise visits to the park, doesn’t help at all.

 

With a deep sigh, Scott forces his eyes shut.

 

∞∞∞∞∞

 

 

_“It is an honor to ride beside you. Let everyman make himself, his king, his country, and his fallen comrades proud. Be brave!”_

 

_His heart beats strong and despite all the men and horses riding alongside him, all he can hear is his own breathing. He can see the tip of his sword shaking as his hand starts trembling uncontrollably. He sees the machine guns so close, right in front of him. Men around him fall from their horses lifeless by the time they reach the ground. His lips are dry. It’s going to be okay, he told himself. It’s going to be okay, he told Joey. The sound of the machine guns being fired is frighteningly loud and close. And all of a sudden, pain spreads through his leg, his body. He can’t see the Germans with machine guns anymore. Instead, he sees the clear sky. Such a beautiful day, he thinks. His voice is ragged and he whimpers in pain. He’s scared. And he’s ashamed of his fear. Jamie wanted us to be brave. He wanted me to be brave, he tells himself. And despite the searing pain and the creeping cold, his heart becomes heavy with dread. It wasn’t fear. It was more than that. Jamie. He was leading right beside him. Jamie. Everything hurts and he has trouble breathing. The clear sky blurs. The sound of gun shots never stops. It never stops._

 

 

∞∞∞∞∞

 

 

Jim wakes in the dark drenched in his own tears and sweat. The sound of the machine guns was still ringing loudly in his ears. His body trembles in fear. _It never stops._ The war may have been over, but it never let Jim out of its grasp, never. And he has to live through it every day for the rest of his life. He lets out a sob as sharp pains spread through his leg. The gun shots. They’re peculiarly loud tonight. Jim winces as he buries his face on his hands. He can’t go back to sleep with this noise and pain.

 

Jim raises his head from his hand as he realizes, all of a sudden, the noise is gone. It usually fades away in time, but never all at once, especially when the noise was as loud as tonight. And he jumps as he hears a voice grumbling and whining.

 

“Jim… let me in… why are you… open the door…”

 

If Jim’s not mistaken that voice belongs to Scott. And his voice is coming from the door outside. And slowly, Jim realizes that the loud noise wasn’t a remnant of his nightmare, but the sound of someone banging on his door. With a cringe, Jim reaches for his pocket watch placed next to his pillow to check the time. _It’s four in the bloody morning!_

 

Jim gets up from his bed and carefully sets his feet on the floor, not to worsen his pain anymore, and walks to the door. He can still hear Scott mumbling something incoherently. As he opens the door, Scott loses his balance and falls. He must have been sitting on the ground, leaning on the door. Jim doesn’t know how to react to this. Clearly Scott drank too much tonight. The smell of strong alcohol and cigarette fills Jim’s nose. He tries to frown, but for some reason, his lips keep curling upwards.

 

“What are you doing here in this late of an hour?”

 

Still spread out on the floor, Scott stares at Jim for the longest time without speaking a word and gives him the sweetest, brightest smile. “I miss… you. Missed… have been missing… you,” Scott mumbles again as he struggles to get up from the floor.

 

With a sigh, Jim helps Scott up and carries, actually more like drags, him inside the apartment. _Well, damn it_ , Jim curses. There is no place for Scott to lie down. Unfortunately, the bedroom was the only option.

 

Jim neither thought it necessary to have a spare room nor decent furniture for the small apartment. His apartment consisted only of a small kitchen and a bedroom. A coffee table with a chair, a dresser and a bed were the only furniture he had. Jim honestly never thought this place would have visitors one day.

 

Jim bites his lips and holds back his moan as the pain spreads through his leg carrying Scott into the bedroom who was now heavily leaning on him. As he places Scott on the bed, Jim sits on the edge to rub his now numb leg.

 

“Damn it, I’m sorry. I forgot… your leg.”

 

At the sound of Scott’s voice, Jim turns to meet his surprisingly bright eyes, eyes almost too bright for a drunken man. With a groan, Scott sits up and places his hands on Jim’s leg. Jim can see the smile on Scott’s face as he accidentally lets out a gasp. He knows he should stop him, tell him that he can take care of it himself, but he can’t. He can’t, because Scott’s gentle hands, rubbing and pressing the part of his leg where Jim’s hands were before, actually take away his pain. And it feels good to have the pain go away.

 

After a few minutes in silence, Scott finally moves his hands from Jim’s leg and leans heavily on the bedside wall.

 

“Thank you,” Jim says quietly. Scott simply fixes his eyes on him.

 

“Come on, you can ask me.”

 

Scott’s voice is raspy unlike his usual smooth voice. And Jim realizes that Scott looks awfully tired tonight. His eyes were red and his face was no longer the usual playful face of Scott’s. Jim forces out a smile and chides him.

 

“Scott, what were you thinking coming to my house at this ungodly hour? And you’re drunk.”

 

“I’m not drunk. If I was drunk, I wouldn’t be sitting here just talking you. I would do much more, especially now that we’re in bed together,” Scott answers with a smirk.

 

Jim’s eyes widen and suddenly he’s not sure if it’s the room temperature that’s rising or just his face. He turns to glare at Scott’s grinning face.

 

“Are you usually this vulgar to people close to you or is this the drunken you talking? Also if you’re not drunk as you say so, how come you can’t even walk on your own?” Jim crosses his arms as he questions the other man.

 

“I’m not drunk. I just got tired from walking all the way to your place, that’s all,” Scott shamelessly throws a smile to Jim who was now staring at him incredulously.

 

“Well, why are you here then, Scott, instead of going home?”

 

Scott grabs his heart dramatically and cries out, “ouch”. Jim smiles and shakes his head at the man’s reaction. He can tell something’s amiss about Scott tonight, but he’s not sure whether or not he should ask about it.

 

Carefully, Jim moves to sit next to Scott, who’s been silently watching him. Their shoulders touch. As Jim turns his head to meet the other man’s eyes, he has to hold his breath realizing just how close Scott’s face is to his, only mere inches away. Scott’s breath tickles his face and Jim lightly coughs as the smell of alcohol becomes stronger being so close to him. Jim turns his gaze away as he sees Scott’s tongue flicker out to wet his dry lips.

 

“I came here because I don’t feel at home at my own house anymore,” Scott says with a heavy sigh as he rubs his face with his hand. “I can’t stay home without pleading and begging Zelda not to… not to go crazy. Last night, she suddenly thought it was a good idea to burn all her old clothes in the bathtub. There’s no stopping her these days. I can’t get anything done there. Every minute I spend at home I lose hope, Jim. I lose hope that eventually everything will get better. It only gets worse and worse. I’m not sure how long both of us endure this kind of pain.”

 

Scott blankly stares down at his hands. “There are so much of her in my works. I mean, how can you not? How can you not write about someone who never leaves your heart, who constantly remains there? Zelda keeps all the letters, you know, at home. She never throws any of the letters away. And for some foolish reason, I decided to go through some of the letters today. And I… I felt so much… so much of everything. Look at me now. Look at me! I’m not happy. I’m not satisfied. I feel… empty inside. And I know I shouldn’t. I have a lovely wife and a loving child and I have friends. I have everything. But do I really have everything? Do I? It wasn’t like this, Jim. It was never like this. And I fear that I’ll never be able to make her happy. I fear… I fear I do not feel for her as I felt for her in the past.”

 

Jim winces in pain as Scott hides his face under his hands to swallow his sobs. He carefully places his hand on Scott’s shaking shoulders. He damns himself for not beingable to think of any wise words for consolation. After much hesitation, Jim lowers his hand to Scott’s back and gently rubs it up and down, hoping this would bring at least a small comfort to him.

 

“Scott, I… I honestly don’t know what to say. And I’m not the best person to be giving you advice. I’m a coward, Scott, I really am. I ran away. Instead of facing my fears and my pain and trying to move on like many others who came back from war, I ran, because I didn’t want to let go. Because I was too scared to face this world without… without that person I cared for so much. And I came to Paris holding onto everything that I should have let go. And those memories, they were my only companion ever since I came here. They visit me every night. They show me the battles. They show me the faces of my friends who died so young. They show me how I was shot. They show me how the person I love fell. And they tell me to stay. Whenever I try to get up from my bed, whenever I try to eat, whenever I try to go out, they tell me to stay, to stay where I was years ago. They tell me not to change. They tell me and I listen. And I don’t eat and I don’t go out. I lock myself up, I hide myself in these sheets, and I stay,” Jim clears his throat trying to keep his emotions away. He forces out a smile as Scott finally looks up from his hands to face Jim.

 

“It’s been so long, since I had someone near me, someone to help me out to the world that I was too afraid to face. And I honestly thought I would die eventually swallowed by those memories. And then, something unexpected happened just about a week ago. I met someone and I felt something. It was an incredible feeling. I felt something that I haven’t felt for years that made me realize that I’m still alive and breathing in this world that I was left to live.”

 

Jim holds Scott’s hands, wet with his tears. He still doesn’t really know what he’s saying and why he’s saying all this nonsense, but it hurts to see Scott like this and he really wants the hurt to stop.

 

“I guess what I’m trying to say is… You shouldn’t hold onto something of the past. You have to let go and the sooner you accept the change, the better. I know better than anyone else that it hurts. It hurts to let go of the past, especially when it was so much brighter and happier than now, and you worry that by letting it go, you’re going to forget it all, but no. You can still remember it and honor it without grasping onto it like that’s your only way to survive this world. If you don’t let go, even those good memories become tainted and they become poisonous to you. It will only hurt you in the end, Scott. You have to let go of what needs to be gone, even if it’s something you love so dearly. And this applies to me as much as it does to you.”

 

Jim swallows the hurt and the bitterness. He feels foolish. It was a terrible advice coming from a terrible person, because really, Jim was the most stubborn in following this advice. He simply blocked it out for the past few years until he became a living dead who lives not in the present but trapped in the past, until he met Scott.

 

“Thank you,” Jim wakes from his thoughts as he once again sees Scott’s tired face smiling back at him. _He looks exhausted,_ Jim thinks as he watches the other man wipe the tears off his face.

 

“You really need get some sleep, Scott,” and Scott nods in agreement. And that’s when Jim realizes that Scott’s still fully dressed in his nice suit. _God, he must have been uncomfortable._ And Jim blames himself for not knowing this earlier when he was carrying him into the bedroom.

 

Without thinking further, Jim urges Scott to undress. Oh, and the dirty look Scott gave him afterwards. This surely must be the drunken Scott, because sober Scott, though always playful, has never been indecent, yet.

 

Jim opens his dresser to find a set of more comfortable clothes for Scott to sleep in. Scott is nearly the same height and size as him, so there will be no problem with the clothes fitting.

 

Jim feels just as emotionally drained as Scott. And he knows that the exhaustion comes from showing his hurt to Scott. To uncover a wound that's been covered for so long. However, in the long run, it's better to have the wound properly fixed than cover it up.

 

As he sits on the edge of the bed waiting for Scott to undress, he simply lets his gaze fall wherever, which happens to end on Scott’s hands. Jim’s eyes follow the movement as Scott takes his jacket off, unties his tie, unbuttons his shirt, and unbuckles his belt and-

 

Jim blinks in confusion as Scott’s hands simply stay on the belt buckle instead of undoing it. One of his hands trails all the way up to Scott’s lips and finally Jim’s eyes focus not on his hand, but on Scott. And there’s that playful smirk again.

 

“Now what was it you said about being vulgar? Jim, at least try to hide your darkest desires. You’re too obvious right now,” Scott giggles his voice hoarse from crying.

 

Jim rolls his eyes, “Scott, if you don’t hurry up and change, I’ll hurry up and kick you out my apartment.”

 

 

∞∞∞∞∞

 

 

Now that Scott let everything out by means of getting drunk and breaking into Jim’s apartment at four in the morning, Scott face does seem to have lighten up a bit, although he still looked awfully tired. And Jim can’t help but smile as he witnessed the transition of sad drunk Scott becoming a happy drunk Scott. Jim makes sure that Scott is comfortably settled on his bed before turning to head out to the kitchen.

 

“Where are you going?” Scott asks from behind.

 

“I’m going to make some coffee,” Jim replies gently.

 

“You’re not going to sleep?” Scott sits up from the bed with a cringe on his face.

 

“Well, I’m afraid I can't. I don’t have a spare bed or a sofa-“

 

“Jim, just stop and come over here. I know you’re just as exhausted as I am. It’s your bed! You have all the right to sleep here more than me. Now come before I drag you, and don’t’ think I can’t because I can’t walk so straight right now,” and Scott giggles once more.

 

Jim stands still in the middle of the room for few long seconds not sure if this is a good idea or not. Finally with a deep sigh, Jim carefully walks towards the bed. The bed was too small for two grown men. Jim shakes his head as Scott pats on the other half of the bed with a bright smile on his face. Once again, their shoulders touch as they lay in bed together. The presence of someone else in bed surprisingly brings comfort to his mind. _It’s been so long, so long,_ he thinks.

 

“Scott, is your wife at home?”

 

“She was out partying with some people last night, but I’m pretty sure she’s home by now.”

 

“Scott, I wasn’t telling you to end your relationship right away with your wife. If there’s a space for making it right, to fix it, you should. Ending your marriage should be the last option, alright? I don’t want you to break what you have with your wife.”

 

“It’s already broken, Jim.”

 

Scott’s words were being drawled as he falls asleep. And Jim decides to not go any further with the discussion at least for now. As Jim finally closes his tired eyes to get some sleep, this time Scott mutters something close to his ears.

 

“We are all writing our stories as we live. We have comedies and we have tragedies. The beauty of such stories, Jim, is that we are healed through sharing our stories. Now you and I know that we are not alone in this world. Actually, it’s quite the opposite, isn’t it? Your tragedy and mine connect us together and we no longer feel disconnected from the world. At least I don’t feel so isolated now, because of you. So once again, thank you.”

 

Scott’s voice is pleasant to listen to and his words are comforting to Jim though he’s not sure if he’s understood every word as he drifts off to sleep. He feels a warm hand touch his cheek and he smiles at the strange, but familiar gesture.

 


	7. Chapter 7

 

Jim stirs awake as the warm body next to his moves to get out of the bed. Jim doesn’t want to open his eyes yet, so he just curls himself inside the sheets. He hasn’t felt such comfort in a while. He doesn’t want this warmth to go away. And the comfort slowly fades away to be replaced by worries.

 

The bed dips again as the warm body comes back to lie down next to him. There is the familiar smell of cigarettes, now stronger. _Always with the morning smokes_ , Jim thinks, but he’s still happy nevertheless. He just doesn’t want to let go of this warmth yet.

 

A hand reaches out to run fingers through Jim’s hair and it’s so comforting that he wants to cry. It’s such a familiar gesture and Jim doesn’t know why he feels the way he does now. Nothing’s new, so why does he feel overwhelmed as if he’s found something that has been long lost? He leans closer to the hand, because he knows that the soft touch will be gone soon. It’ll be back the next morning, so Jim doesn’t understand why he feels so afraid of losing the warmth.

 

“You better leave now, Jamie,” Jim whispers. When he speaks, his voice is sad as if he’s lost everything.

 

There is a slight pause to the touch, but soon it continues as the hand softly tussles Jim’s fine hair. “You got the name wrong,” the unexpected voice startles Jim and he opens his eyes wide. Lying next to him was Scott, wearing Jim’s clothes, smiling gently at him as he continues to brush Jim’s hair with his fingers.

 

“I- I thought I was dreaming,” and the memories of last night slowly creep back to him.

 

“I can leave if you want me to, but currently I’m enjoying lying next to you just a little too much.” Scott’s voice is still hoarse from last night but his tone’s lighter and that comforts Jim.

 

“I really thought I was dreaming. I just haven’t had anyone in bed with me for a long time,” and Jim can’t help but chuckle as Scott throws him a naughty look.

 

“So this person, she-“

 

“He,” Jim corrects him as he averts his gaze elsewhere a bit worried how Scott may look at him now.

 

“So he’s the bastard who broke your heart and left you all alone in Paris?”

 

Jim knows that Scott’s joking, but his heart still aches. It probably would have been better if Jamie left him, then maybe he wouldn’t have to hold all the guilt. If only Jamie would have left him, Jim could be living a different life.

 

With a small sigh Jim says, “Jamie’s dead, Scott. He was shot in battle, the same day I was shot.”

 

The fading smile of Scott’s makes Jim almost regret that he told him the truth about Jamie. Jim can carry all the guilt even though sometimes it nearly kills him. There is no need for such guilt to be shared, especially with someone he came to care for in such a short time. Scott slides his hand over Jim’s cheek. The warmth of his hand comforts Jim. Scott’s eyes on Jim are serious, no longer holding humor.

 

“It’s not your fault that he’s dead,” Scott’s voice is quiet and careful.

 

Jim chuckles bitterly. “I know it’s not my fault, Scott. I didn’t force him to join the war. I didn’t force him to ride towards the machine guns that shot hundreds of bullets per minute. It’s the fact that I survived the war and he didn’t. He rode out just the same, on the very front of the line with our swords out. So what was it that made him the target and not me? It’s not fair. It’s never fair.”

 

Jim can feel Scott’s thumb moving back and forth caressing his cheek. “People always say that I’m lucky to have survived. But I never once considered myself lucky to have survived the wretched war. I rather thought surviving it, while others fell, was a brutal punishment. Those men who fell have no more pain, no more to suffer. But for those who live, we have to carry the nightmares, the pain, both physical and mental, and suffer in guilt until the rest of our lives. Many times, Scott, I wished death upon myself. I know it’s wrong and selfish to wish such a thing, but sometimes it’s too much to carry on alone. I’m honestly surprised that I managed to live on till now.”

 

“Well, I’m glad you’re still here. Or else I wouldn’t have had anywhere to go last night,” Scott tries to keep his voice light, but there is concern deep in it. He shouldn’t be rash, but he can’t help but get angry for all the people who failed to console Jim, help him out in any way possible. To think that Jim has been living in agony ever since the war, it breaks his heart. _And it’s been seven god damn years since the war ended!_ How did anyone not notice this before? If Jim trapped himself in his room and refused to meet other people, someone should have opened that door and guided him out back to the world! Why did they let him suffer until his wounds festered?

 

“I really am glad you’re here, with me. And though I may not have the right to say this, you should never, ever think of such a thing. Death should not be feared, but it should not be welcomed either, not when it’s not the right time. You’re still so young, Jim. There is still so much in you for this world to see, for _me_ to see. Don’t throw yourself away like that. It’ll break my heart to ever hear you say such thing again.”

 

Jim hesitates to give an answer. He doesn’t know what the future holds for him, for _them_. And he doesn’t want to make promises that he may have to break in the future. If he loses hope, once again, he really wouldn’t know what to do. He’s not sure if he would be able to handle it. But Scott’s expecting eyes make it hard for Jim to ignore his plea.

 

“I am going to take your silence as a definitive yes. Now, unless you had plans for today, let’s just stay in bed a bit longer? I believe I drank a bit too much last night and this terrible headache isn’t going to get any better if I start moving. And also, I must admit, I’ve become quite attached to your cozy bed,” Scotts moves his body closer to Jim’s and he chuckles as he sees Jim’s face flushing.

 

“Do you even remember what you said last night?” Jim asks suspiciously.

 

“Of course, I do. I told you I wasn’t drunk. I can handle more drinks than most of the people out there. Oh… and I also remember telling you that if I were drunk I wouldn’t be just sitting here talking to you. I would be doing something closer to this.”

 

It happens so quickly and Jim yelps—and later is embarrassed for doing so—as Scott climbs on top of him with both his hands holding Jim’s wrists on each side of the bed. For a moment, Jim even forgets to struggle and stares at Scott with eyes filled with surprise.

 

“Scott, just what are you doing?”

 

“Maybe I’m more drunk now than before,” Jim can tell that Scott’s playing, that he’s still joking, but he can’t help but feel nervous when he sees one side of Scott’s mouth curl up dangerously. Once again, the strange, but familiar feeling spreads through his body.

 

“Can’t we- can’t we just stay in bed together without climbing on top of each other? I’ll make you coffee if you behave,” Jim lets out a nervous laugh as he tries to move his hands out of Scott’s grips.

 

Scott slowly bends his head down as close as he can get to Jim’s face without actually having their faces touch. Jim swallows as he feels Scott’s breath on him. He clears his throat and turns his head to the side waiting for Scott to release him. But unlike his wish, Scott goes further to whisper in his ear, his lips so close, tickling him.

 

“The question is do you remember what I said last night? About our connections and new found love for each other and how I don’t feel so lonely anymore with you beside me, well, for now, under me.”

 

Jim shudders and lets out an unwanted groan as Scott’s lips and his warm breath continue to brush his ear. And he can’t wait for Scott to release him anymore unless he wants to embarrass himself.

 

“Scott Fitzgerald, get down from me before I throw you off the bed!” Jim shouts and squirms as he now struggles to get Scott off him. And Scott bursts out laughing as he lets go off Jim and moves next to him.

 

“That wasn’t as funny as you think, Scott,” Jim grumbles, his face still red.

 

“Can I still get coffee?” And Jim actually elbows Scott on the side wanting to wipe that smug off his face. He never expected this side of Scott, all playful and even quite ungentlemanly with his wild behaviors.

 

“You, Scott, have a very peculiar way of changing the mood. How does ‘don’t wish for death’ become ‘I’m going to climb on top of you’? If you are showing such behaviors elsewhere, I will be seriously concerned about your social life.” Though Jim doesn’t want to admit it, what with all the suggestive comments Scott continues to throw at him, he feels young again. It’s been so long since he’s joked with someone, yelled at someone, and even elbowed someone on the side, let alone spoke to someone. And somehow ending up laughing with Scott takes the heavy weight off his heart. And he feels relieved and happy, something that he forgot the feeling of.

 

Scott embraces Jim, his body now tight in his arms, and buries his face on Jim’s neck. Jim should probably tell him to get off, but instead, he reaches his hand out to brush Scott’s hair just like Scott did for him earlier.

 

“I don’t want to go home,” Scott whines and Jim lightly pulls Scott’s curly hair.

 

“Don’t be a child. We talked about it last night. No more running, no more denying. We are going to face whatever problems and fears we have. It’s for the best and you know it. Go and try to fix it, Scott.”

 

 _And if nothing else works, you know what to do._ Jim swallows those last words to himself. Jim wants Scott to fix whatever’s broken between his wife and him. He wants Scott to be happy again. And Jim knows that he should probably step away if everything works out for them. He’d be happy to do so, he really will, but for some reason, Jim’s smile seems strained.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that the plot is rather going slow, but the story's in Jim's perspective and obviously, he doesn't have the most adventurous life. A day will come when Scott and Jim will actually have some busy life... maybe.


	8. Chapter 8

 

Already some time has passed since Scott’s surprise visit to Jim’s apartment. Now it has become a routine of theirs to walk together to the park from the apartment, Scott always leading the conversation while the other quietly listens. After letting some of his heaviest burden off his mind, Scott seems to be happier, genuinely happy. He talks about his wife, Zelda, a lot more, without being in distress like before. He says that they’re getting better, that they can now carry on a conversation without having it turn into an argument or a shouting match.

 

Nothing seems to have changed between these two men, but after each of their short walks, Jim’s smiles seem to be more forced out, more strained. One afternoon, Scott said, _I was actually able to work on my novel last evening in the house! She simply left to see some of her friends. I can’t even remember the last time she left me in peace to work._ “That’s great,” Jim replied with a smile on his face. The other day, Scott said, _We went out for dinner, just the two of us; no friends, no party, just the two of us. We ate at this small, quiet restaurant and it was great. We were both so happy._ “I’m glad to hear that,” Jim said with a sad smile on his face. Today Scott says, _We’re going on a picnic tomorrow away from the city. I was worried she wouldn’t like the idea of it, since she loves this crowded city so much, but she was actually very delighted about it when I asked._ “I’m happy for you,” Jim answers, but there is no smile on his face.

 

After each meeting of theirs, Jim leaves with a bit of bitterness and a slight ache in his heart. He is happy for Scott and his improved relationship with his wife. He _should_ be happy. For Scott, he should be. But he can’t help but wince at the needlelike pains that come and go each time he hears Scott talk about her. _Is this jealousy? Is this fear; fear of someone leaving you once again?_

 

As always, Scott walks Jim back to his apartment. And as usual, Scott reaches out to wrap his hand around Jim’s cheek. But today, Jim reluctantly smiles and turns his face from his hand. “Have a safe trip,” he says and enters his apartment.

 

∞∞∞∞∞

 

 _It’s better to cut it off now than later_ , Jim thinks to himself. Maybe he had gotten it all wrong. Maybe what Scott wanted was a friend, not a lover, who could accept him as he is without having to worry about others, the society, judging him. Jim wouldn’t hesitate to be Scott’s friend. He is a good man; brilliant, talented man. But what if the feelings aren’t mutual? What if Jim wants more than just a friend? _Can I go through that much pain? Do I want myself to suffer as I fake a smile for him wishing him all the best for him and his wife?_ He’s not so sure about anything anymore.

 

Jim lets out a deep sigh as he walks towards the small table scattered with his unfinished sketches. It’s when he begins to organize the table that he remembers the letters sent from his sister. He meant to read it as soon as he received them, but then, Scott came by.

_Hmm, two letters in a less than a week_ , he thinks as he carefully opens the envelope with the earlier date stamped on. His sister does write to him on regular basis, but never has she sent multiple letters in just a few-day span. _Maybe something’s happened_. His hands hurry to take out the letter inside as the worrying thought reaches him. His breath quickens as he reads over the letter.

_It breaks my heart to start this letter with such bad news, but there is no time to waste with little gossips and small news of the town as father is gravely ill. We always knew that this would happen someday, but we never expect it to happen so soon. Jim, he had a stroke. His heart is giving up. The doctor says that we should prepare for the worst. He says that it won’t be long. Jim, I am lost and scared. You are aware that father misses you dearly and wishes for your return here. After he’s had the stroke, he keeps calling your name. Jim, please. I understand you wish to bury your past and start anew in Paris, but we need you here. Father needs you here, now. I only wish that this letter reaches your hand before it’s too late. Please come home._

 

Everything around him blurs for a moment. It was like facing the machine guns once again. Everything is silent and all he can hear is his shaky breath, having trouble finding air. His hand trembles as he reaches for the second envelope sent by his sister a couple days later. As he tears the envelope and takes out the letter, he can see the machine gun swing towards him, the man holding the gun aiming him with sharp eyes.

_Father passed away._

 

As if shot, Jim lets out a sharp cry and drops to the floor. He clenches his chest. _It hurts. It hurts too much._ He shakes his body back and forth. His body shakes and the apartment is filled with the sound of his cries. No one is there to help him up as he mutters _why_ over and over again.

 

∞∞∞∞∞

 

With the chilling autumn wind came the cold rain, hitting the ground hard with its bladelike drops and blowing all the colorful leaves away from the trees. There is barely anyone left in the park and even the handful of people left was hurrying to escape the heavy rain. In the end, there was only Jim, sitting on his usual bench, his eyes showed no emotions and his face, completely blank.

 

In his hand were the letters from yesterday, the words in them all washed up with the rain. _Please, Jim, do not blame yourself for not being here. It was already too late by the time I wrote you the letter. Everything happened unexpectedly and there was nothing you could’ve done to stop it even if you were here with us. Promise me, Jim. Promise me that you won’t blame yourself for this. Just come home as soon as you can. There are matters to be settled and we need you here. More than anything else, we all miss you so much. Is it not better to share this grief rather than trying to endure it alone?_

 

Jim laughs bitterly as her sister’s words repeat in his head. _Do not blame yourself._

_“Jim, are you sure-”_

_“Yes, father, I am sure. How many times do I have to tell you this? I do not wish to stay here any longer. It pains me, father. Every single moment I am here, I feel as if I am living a nightmare. It’s unbearable. I want to start a new life where I don’t have to suffer over and over again.”_

_“Think about your sister. You’re the closest friend she has. She would be heartbroken to see you leave. And your mother! She was so relieved to see you come back alive from the war. You leaving would only break her heart again.”_

_“I would only break their hearts more if I stay here. It’s best that I leave. I have nothing left here; nothing that gives me happiness anyways.”_

_“Are we nothing to you, son? Are we not here to help you and save you from your suffering?”_

_“No, I’m all alone in this. There is nothing you can do to save me.”_

 

Jim still remembers his father’s voice trembling in disappointment. To think that that was the last thing he’s said to him. How his father’s heart must have weakened each time he replied his letters with refusals to be helped, to return to his family. His eyes, once again, fill with tears. _Do not blame yourself? I have all the right to take this blame._

 

Already drenched in the rain, Jim wishes these sharp raindrops to turn to blades. He wants them to cut him inside and out. He wants these raindrops to turn into bullets, like the ones he faced years ago. He wants to stop feeling, stop suffering, stop the guilt, and stop breathing. He wants everything to just stop.

 

∞∞∞∞∞

 

“Jim, what in the world happened to you?”

 

Jim hears a familiar voice as he reaches his apartment. He scoffs at Scott’s worried face. He’s angry, he’s sad, he’s hurt, he’s… broken. He’s should be happy to see his face, but it only boils anger inside him.

 

“Why are you here?”

 

“I wanted to tell you something, important. You didn’t answer when I knocked and I got worried, so I decided to wait. Jim, let’s go inside. You’re soaked. You’re going to catch a cold if you don’t change quickly. Come on-“

 

“Don’t touch me!” Jim yells and shakes Scott’s hand off him. He bites his lips hard to keep the tears off his eyes. It hurts to see Scott’s eyes surprised and hurt. It makes him guilty. _As if I’m not already._

 

“Jim, what’s going on?” The genuine concern in Scott’s voice makes him angrier. _Why does he care? Why does anyone care about me? I don’t deserve-_

 

“I don’t deserve it,” Jim mutters.

 

“What?” Scott cringes to make out the words buried under the sound of pouring rain.

 

“It’s over, Scott,” Jim says with his voice hoarse.

 

“What is?”

 

“This!” Jim swings his arm between Scott and him. “This, whatever this is. Whatever we have between us. Whatever we were trying to start here. It needs to stop. I don’t need it. I don’t want it. I don’t… deserve it. I just don’t.”

 

“What do you mean you don’t deserve it?” Scott’s voice is sharp and it stings Jim’s heart to see his eyes disappointed and angry.

 

“Just… it’s over, Scott. I don’t want to see you anymore. I don’t want to listen to your problems. I don’t want to know what’s going on between you and your wife. I don’t want this temporary relationship. You were probably looking for someone to replace your wife’s place until everything got better between you two, but I don’t want to be that replacement! It makes me happy. It makes me want to want something more. It gives me hope! I don’t want that. I don’t want to look forward to anything anymore. I don’t need to happy. I don’t deserve to be happy. So just leave. Leave me alone. I don’t need anyone in my life. I do best when I’m alone.” Jim holds tight to his hands to hide his trembling and stares down to hide his tears.

 

“You’re not making any sense, Jim. Just weeks ago, you were telling me something completely opposite of what you talked about just now. Please, Jim, just tell me what happened. And we’ll go inside and talk about this. Please, Jim.” Scott walks towards Jim, much more carefully this time, and places his hand on his shoulder.

 

Jim flinches at his touch as if it hurts. He opens his mouth to tell him to _go away_ but what comes out is a sob. And he can’t hold it anymore. He cries and cries until he’s gasping for air as Scott holds him in his arms, soothing him, telling him _it’s going to be okay_. He rubs his back with his hand and tries to warm his cold, trembling body soaked with rain. _Let’s go inside, Jim. Let’s go inside_ , Scott whispers.

 

∞∞∞∞∞

 

Scott’s glad to find the apartment much warmer than the outside. He quickly takes the wet clothes of off Jim and grabs a towel from the bathroom to dry his body. He’s not sure if Jim’s body is shaking from being soaked with ice cold rain or because he’s been crying for so long. He takes Jim to his bedroom and looks through his dresser to find anything that may be warm and comfortable for him. After minutes of calming the other man and helping him dress to his warmer clothes, Scott finally manages to get him in bed. _You need to change, too_ , Jim whispers through his yet-to-end sobs. Scott quietly chuckles, but quickly consents to do so. _Oh, the convenience of all his clothes fitting me so well._

 

Scott joins Jim in bed. _You’re still so cold,_ he says as he clasps his hands on Jim’s to warm him up. He would have been angry, even feel betrayed, by what Jim said about wanting to be alone and not wanting to be a replacement, but how could he when Jim looked so hurt and lost? He sighs worriedly as the other man continues to shiver and hugs him tightly.

 

“What happened?” He asks as he runs his fingers through Jim’s hair like he did before.

 

“My father… he passed away,” Silence fills the room for a moment. Jim hides his face on the crook of Scott’s neck to avoid the pitying look on his face.

 

“Jim… I’m sorry. I really am sorry to hear that. When did he-”

 

“A few days ago, but I only got the letter about it yesterday.”

 

“I’m so sorry… Will you be going back home?”

 

“I was hoping for the rain to be strong enough to swallow me so I can drown in it, but since that didn’t happen I guess I’ll have to go,” Jim mutters.

 

”Jim, don’t say that. Why would you say-”

 

“Because it’s my fault. It’s my fault that his health worsened. It’s my fault-”

 

“Jim, please, stop saying things like that. It’s not your fault.” Scott tries to meet the other’s eyes, but Jim pushes him away as he turns his back to him.

 

“You don’t know what happened, Scott. I made mistakes; mistakes that could have been so easily avoided. We were a happy family until I experienced war; until I lost so many friends that I cared for dearly. I should have never lingered onto the people I already lost. My family, they love me so much and I turned their help down. I left them. I told them there was nothing they could do to help me. I made them feel helpless. I hurt them. Only after it’s too late, I realize and regret how foolish my decision was. I left the people who are alive and happy for people who were dead. What good did that do, hmm? It’s not like they’re going to come back. I’m always a step too late, always.” With a deep sigh Jim covers his face with his hands in frustration.

 

“Look at me, Jim,” Scott softly rubs circles on Jim’s back. _Look at me,_ he whispers.

 

Slowly Jim turns to face him. Tears cover his cheeks once again and Scott gently wipes them off. _It’s okay_ , Scott says, but Jim can’t help shake his head in negation. With a soft sigh, he closes the distance between their faces, his thumb caressing Jim’s lips.

 

“If you don’t want to repeat your mistakes again, you need to move on, right? You said yourself that by lingering onto people you already lost, you forgot the people you should have cared for who are living and well. Every death you experience will leave you with guilt. You’re not the only one, but you need to learn how to live pass the guilt. It’s obvious that people think of all the mistakes and regrets they’ve made with the person who passed away, because they realize it’s too late to make amends, but surely you also shared good memories with your father, or your friends from the war. Keep those memories, Jim. Guilt comes, but learn how to let go of it. Promise me that. Promise me you will never let your guilt take over you. You’re better than that. You’re stronger than that, right?”

_These damn tears won’t stop falling_ , Jim mutters with a smile and Scott can’t help but kiss him. Jim’s lips were chapped and Scott could taste the tears off him. He wraps his hand behind his neck and pushes forward, but Jim turns his head away.

 

“I can’t, Scott,” Jim looks guiltily at the other man. “You’re well with your wife now. I don’t want to ruin that. Though it hurts me to admit this, I know now that we can’t be anything more than just friends. You are a great, great man, but I can’t stay here with you continuing this as friends. It would only hurt me and your relationship with your wife. It’s better for the both of us to stop doing this.” With emotions still raw from losing his father, Jim honestly didn’t want to discuss about this right now, but _I’m the one who brought it up in the first place_.

 

“What do you mean my relationship with Zelda?” Scott stares at him in confusion.

 

“You said your relationship with her is improving, that both of you are happier these days. I don’t want to ruin that.”

 

“Yes, happier, Jim, because I followed your advice to put my past feelings behind and accepted the change, the change of my heart. I finally had the courage to talk with her about what we’ve been avoiding for the past year, because of you. At first, we couldn’t get past our frustration, but in the end, we both admitted that the feelings we have for each other aren’t the same as before. Yes, we do love each other, but no longer the way we felt when we first met. We were both clinging onto our past feelings and that only brought us down. Admitting the change made us better. It was as if someone took a heavy burden off of our lives. When I said improved, I meant it simply as ‘we no longer argue’. We were given the chance to start over and we are starting over, not as lovers, but as friends.” Scott’s smile widens as he finds Jim’s eyes filled with confusion just as he did a while ago.

 

“I told you I came here tonight because I had something important to tell you. Zelda and I are going back to the States. We’re getting a divorce. We’re officially separating. Yesterday, we came to an agreement that it’s better for the both of us to separate. She’s been having a lot of breakdowns and we thought if she gets some rest in the country away from this city, the people here, and the parties, maybe she’ll recover. Of course, I did tease her she won’t be able to rest for long, because her feet will be missing all the crazy dance parties she’s been going to in Paris. We promised we’ll look after each other even after we go our separate ways. And well, with little Scottie, we’ll make sure she spends time equally with the both of us.”

 

“You tricked me,” Jim shakes his head in disbelief.

 

“No, you over analyzed,” Scott teases.

 

“So you and Zelda-”

 

“We will no longer be _the Fitzgeralds_ ,” he answers with a smile.

 

“After the divorce, will you be coming back to Paris?”

 

“Will you be coming back to Paris after you leave to England?”

 

“Will your answer depend on my answer?” Jim looks at Scott nervously with his eyes still red from crying.

 

Scott throws Jim a charming smile as he plants a kiss on Jim’s cheek. “Of course, you worry me too much to be on your own. I got to keep an eye on you somehow.”

 


	9. Chapter 9

 

_“Father?”_

_Jim finds his father facing the window behind the desk. He looks around and realizes that he’s back in his old house in England in his father’s study room, his favorite place to be when he was young. Though he calls out, his father doesn’t move; his back still turned. He wants to step forward, closer to him, but he can’t. It’s as if his body is stuck to the ground._

_“Father, will you look at me, please?”_

_He keeps calling for him, again and again, pleading him to turn around and talk to him, but his father seems not to acknowledge him at all. Jim’s mind fills with confusion. This is very unlike his father. His father would not do this to him. He wouldn’t simply ignore his son like this._

_“Father, please.”_

_Desperation seeps into his voice as he calls for him once more. Just why won’t he turn around and look at me, he thinks to himself in frustration. When he was a little boy, when sometimes he couldn’t do what he wanted, he would pout and wish he’d become invisible to the people around him so he can be left alone to do whatever pleased him. Now he knows how foolish such a wish was. It hurts to be invisible, to not be seen, or heard. He thinks hard, trying to find an answer to why his father would be treating him so. He wants to leave the room and ask his sisters just what he’s done to make him so angry, but he can neither reach out for his father nor turn around to escape this misery. He just can’t move._

_“Father, if I have done something wrong, tell me, so I can fix it. Will you please turn around and look at me? Will you at least answer me?”_

_“I am no father of yours. When you left home for Paris, when you refused to answer my letters pleading for you to come back, when you no longer treated me as your father, I ceased to be one. You were tireless in hurting us, your family, who would have stayed and endured the pain with you. I died because of you. I fell because I could not endure all the pain you have caused me. It is because of you, all the deaths, all the destructions. You are the cause of it all and I no longer wish to welcome you as my son.”_

_A wave of guilt crashes over Jim and he fails to find the right words; words asking for forgiveness, for a second chance. Tears trickle down his cheeks blurring his vision. He tries so hard to take a step forward, to reach for his father, but it is useless and all he can do is stand there and cry; weep like a lost child._

_Some minutes have passed as both men stood in silence. Finally, Jim straightens his shoulders as he tries to regain his composure. He roughly wipes away the tears from his eyes. If this is to be his punishment for neglecting the ones he loved, then he will accept it with no further argument. However, he wants to ask for one last thing._

_“Where is the honor in this, father, which you spoke of so often? Face me and tell me that you no longer wish to see me. This is the last thing I will ever ask of you. Turn around and look at me!”_

_His voice trembles and it becomes hard to breathe, once again, as sorrow takes over him. But finally, he sees his father move, slowly turning around. This is our goodbye, father, Jim whispers._

_However, when his father turns around what he sees in front of him is not his father, but Jamie. In a blink of an eye, the study room disappears and Jim is back on the battlefield. He is surrounded by deafening sounds of gunshots, brave men shouting as they march toward their enemies, and the painful moans of dying lives. He finds himself back in his uniform covered in mud and blood. He hears a painful cry and turns to find Joey, his horse, struggling to get up from the ground. He quickly looks back at Jamie looking for help and rushes toward the bleeding animal._

_“Joey, my boy, it’s going to be fine. It’s going to be okay,” Jim takes his gloves off his hands and soothes the animal trembling in pain. He bites his lips to hold his tears. Such a lively, spirited, beautiful boy he was. Now he’s covered in dirt and blood, fear and exhaustion reflected in his once beautiful eyes. “Shh, shh, it’s alright, my boy. You’re going to be fine. I’m going to get you out of here, okay? I made a promise with your friend, Albert, remember? I’ll get you out and you’re going to see him again just like I promised. It’s going to be fine. Shh, shh, Joey, it’s okay. Everything’s going to be fine, I promise.”_

_“You left us,” the voice he’s missed so much speaks behind him._

_Jim turns to see Jamie standing close to him, his face hiding his emotions away as always. But the face he’s become so familiar with looks different this time. How is this possible, he asks himself, a side of Jamie that he’s never seen before? But he’s seen him through his best and worst moments; that day when they celebrated together for passing the examination, that summer when Jamie yelled at him with worry when he nearly broke his leg falling from that horse, that late evening when they drank together as Jamie was promoted to major, that night before the march when they silently wiped the tears off their faces unable to do anything else but hold onto each other’s hands, and those countless days and nights they spent together training. Has Jim not seen them all?_

_“You left us all. We waited, you know. We waited and waited for you to come and help us, but you left. We died here waiting for you. We died here believing your lies that you will come for us and help us out of this wretched, useless war! But you never came. You just left. You left us all, here, to die, to choke on our own bloods and die. Rot here while you live your life as nothing has happened, as if I never existed!”_

_“You don’t- You don’t mean that, Jamie. You know I wouldn’t- Jamie, you don’t mean that.”_

_The voice inside Jim wants to yell at Jamie, to be angry at him for saying such cruel words, but all that comes out of him are whispers, his mind still in disbelief that the person he loves the most in his life would be hurting him so much. Now he knows; now he understands why the look on Jamie’s face seemed so unfamiliar, so strange. It was betrayal and it was hatred. Never once has Jamie looked at him like that, never._

_Jim looks down on Joey, his struggles now weakened, and he sees the blame, the hate inside his eyes. He never realized how an animal as innocent as Joey could hold such hatred in its eyes. I’m so sorry, he whispers over and over again. His whispers are buried under the sound of men fighting, men shooting, and men dying and his tears are hidden with the heavy smoke around him._

_“You said you would return him to me. I died looking for him. I never saw him again, sir. I never saw him again.”_

_“We believed in you, sir. We trusted you with our lives. Even though you were young, even though we knew you didn’t have any combat experience, we trusted you with our lives. Our trust cost us our lives. How can you just leave us like that, sir?”_

_More and more voices surround him. When Jim finally turns his eyes away from Joey, he sees everyone, Jamie and all the men who lost their lives fighting alongside him. He even sees Albert, the young boy from Devon who cared for Joey more than anyone else, now wearing a ragged uniform. I’m so sorry. He can no longer meet their eyes. He’s ashamed to look into their eyes. I’m so sorry, he chokes out overwhelmed with guilt. I’m so sorry._

_As Jim’s tears drop on Joey’s now still body, unexpected warm blood drops on Jim’s hands. Drop by drop, they stain his clean hands. Hesitantly, he looks up, only to have his eyes shut the moment he sees the origin of the dripping blood. Red spots on Jamie’s uniform spread across his upper body, the blood from his gunshot wounds eventually dropping to the ground._

_This is a dream. It’s all a bad dream. Wake up, please, wake up. His body shakes uncontrollably as he feels his once cold hands now warm, drenched in blood. All of a sudden, strong hands grip his and Jim opens his eyes in surprise._

_“You have blood on your hands, Nicholls, and no matter how much you try to wash them away, they will always remain on you. Our blood, our death will never leave you.”_

_Jamie, please stop, he whimpers as he struggles to be free from the man’s grip, but it is useless. The blood flows from his hands to his uniform. He feels sick. He can’t take it anymore. He wants everything to stop. Just stop._

 

∞∞∞∞∞

 

 

“Jesus, Jim, wake up. Wake up!”

 

 _I’m sorry. I’m so sorry._ Scott thought everything would be fine when they went to sleep. Jim said he was feeling a bit cold, but he seemed alright, especially with an extra layer of thick blanket to warm their bodies. Oh, but he was wrong. He was very, very wrong. He wakes from his sleep in surprise to find Jim muttering in his sleep, his body shaking as if having a nightmare. His body was burning up.

 

“Jim, wake up!”

 

As Scott gently shakes his sleeping body, Jim’s eyes open weakly, but fail to focus on him. Tears cover his face and his body with cold sweat. _Jim, look at me_ , Scott whispers as he wraps his hand on the other’s too warm cheek. Slowly, Jim’s eyes find his, but when he speaks, the words are not for him.

 

“I’m so sorry. I’m sorry for everything. I would’ve stayed, but they saved me. I would’ve died with you, but they saved me. I’m so sorry. I never meant to abandon you. Please, please trust me. I never wanted to leave you. Trust me, please. I’m sorry.”

 

Jim grabs onto his shirt desperately and apologizes over and over again. Worry and guilt take over Scott’s mind, because he knows. He knows what nightmare Jim must have had and what he is apologizing for. In hopes of calming the other man, he wraps his arms around Jim’s shaking body.

 

“It’s okay. I believe you. I trust you. I know you would have stayed. I have absolutely no doubt about that. But they saved you, Jim, and you don’t know how happy I am that they did. I’m so happy that you’re okay. It’s going to be okay, Jim. Don’t worry. I forgive you.”

 

Scott knows that he has no right to speak in place of the man whom Jim loved so much, but he sees no other way of calming him. Surely, he must understand. Surely, he must have done the same thing. Still, Scott silently asks for forgiveness.

 

Jim continues to mutter apologies between his sobs, his voice barely a whisper and hoarse with sickness. For years, he has been living alone and it breaks Scott’s heart to think how this man, wrapped in his arms, could have coped on his own after such nightmares and sicknesses.

 

 

∞∞∞∞∞

 

 

Dim light fills the bedroom as night becomes dawn. After rubbing his tired eyes, Scott carefully reaches for his pocket watch placed on the bedside table to check the time. It’s almost six. With a sigh, he turns his eyes back to Jim, still in his arms. He has finally calmed down, no more tears and apologies. _But his body’s still too warm_ , Scott worries as he carefully presses his hand on Jim’s forehead and then to his neck to check his temperature.

 

“I’m sorry you had to see me like this.” Jim whispers with his eyes closed. His whole body aches. His head rings in pain, his nose is runny, and his throat sore. He feels as if he’s lost control of his body.

 

“No, I’m glad I stayed for the night.” Scott smiles as he gently moves the hair out of Jim’s eyes. “Your hair’s gotten longer since I’ve first met you.”

 

“I need to get it cut.” Jim weakly pushes himself up to sit on the bed. “I don’t want to look a mess meeting my family.”

 

“Well, honestly, you do look a mess right now, but it’s definitely not because of your hair, which I quite like by the way, but more because you’re tired, stressed, and most of all, sick as a dog. Now lie down and go back to sleep.” Scott drags the other man back down to lie next to him, ignoring his weak refusal to do so.

 

Just when Scott thinks Jim has fallen asleep, he hears him whisper, careful and hesitant.

 

“They blamed me, every one of them. They were so angry at me. What if they actually were, Scott? What if my father died bitter and disappointed knowing that his only son ran away from everything like a coward? What if Jamie and all the other men died in anger as they watched me be saved while many others yelled for help? Then I have no right to be happy.”

 

“You’re wrong about that, Jim. You’re very wrong.” At the other man’s serious voice, Jim opens his eyes and is surprised to find Scott’s disappointed face. “Jim, how can you think so low of them? Do you truly believe that your father’s last wish would be for you to suffer in guilt? Do you truly think Jamie, the man who you shared love with, and all your other soldier friends who died in battle would wish for your death, for your fall? Is that the best you can think of your father and your friends?”

 

As Jim’s eyes fill with tears, Scott quickly regrets for having pushed the matter too harshly. _But it had to be said_ , he thinks. He cups his hand gently around Jim’s cheek.

 

“Jim, you told me that it was a miracle that you survived your injuries. You told me that you were lying on that muddy, bloody field for a very long time until you were found and sent to the hospital. You almost died, am I right?” At his question, Jim nods slowly, his eyes filled with uncertainty.

 

“When you were lying there slowly dying, were you angry at Jamie, at your fellow soldiers, who may have survived that battle that you weren’t going to? Did you curse them for their survival? Did you blame them for your pain?”

 

At this, Jim’s eyes widen in realization of what Scott is trying to tell him. He averts his eyes quickly in shame. _How foolish of me. Always the fool, Jim, always_ , Jim scolds himself.

 

“Jim, did you blame them?” Scott asks again.

 

“No, I didn’t.” Jim swallows thickly before he continues. “I was scared that they might have gotten hurt. I knew most of the men there and I was so frustrated of not knowing what was actually going on, to lie there, useless, without being able to lead or help anyone. I was so worried for them. I should know better than to think and say such things about them. They deserve better; they deserve much better.”

 

“Thanks for reminding me that, Scott.” Despite all the pain that is going through his body, Jim smiles shyly at Scott and tries to lighten up the mood. “Could you forget what I said earlier and disregard it as a foolish mumbling of a sick person?” Smiling along Jim, Scott closes the distance between them.

 

It happens again like last time. Scott begins the kiss, his hand gently holding the back of Jim’s head. His lips meet Jim’s still chapped lips, maybe less salty this time. The only difference is that, rather than turning away, Jim comes closer to meet his lips. Scott can’t help but chuckle through the kiss when he sees the other man struggling to breathe through his congested nose. He playfully bites down on other’s lower lip and as if surprised, with a slight flinch, Jim opens his mouth to let him in.

 

 _This is too much_ , Jim thinks as he tries not to pull away from Scott’s deepening kiss. It’s not that he doesn’t want this. No, he wants this. He has wanted this so much that it ached sometimes. It’s been too long though. Too long that he’s forgotten the excitement, the passion, the lust. And to suddenly have them all at once, he feels overwhelmed. His heart beats fast as if to jump out of him and with his fevered body, _it’s too much_.

 

When Scott is satisfied discovering the inside of Jim’s mouth, in details, he finally pulls back and feels a bit sorry to find the other man breathing heavily, his cheeks flushed more than before.

 

“It probably wasn’t a good idea to kiss you when you can only breathe through your mouth, was it?” Jim simply shakes his head and Scott’s not sure whether that means _no, it wasn’t a good idea_ or _no, it was still a good kiss_. He concludes that Jim probably meant _no, it wasn’t a good idea, but it was still a good kiss._

 

“You kissed me last night.” Jim says and Scott nods.

 

“This was our second kiss.” Jim says and Scott smiles.

 

“I feel terrible.” Jim says and at this, Scott’s eyes fill with disappointment.

 

Quickly sensing that Scott has misunderstood him, he quickly adds, “I didn’t mean the kisses. I meant me, Scott. You kissed me last night and I pushed you away. And also, I wasn’t myself after standing out in the rain for so long. Even now, I’m sick as a dog, as you put it, and I couldn’t breathe.” He smiles as he sees Scott’s face lightening up in relief. _Sometimes he’s so childlike_ , he thinks.

 

“I’ll make sure to make our future kisses better.” Jim says as he reaches out to clean Scott’s glistening lips with his thumb. Now this is a part of Jim that Scott has never seen and for a short while, he forgets to reply and simply stares at the other man.

 

Finally shaking his thoughts off, Scott realizes that it’s become brighter outside and remembers his plan for Jim. “You are sick as a dog. And now that I see the sun coming up, I’m going to get the doctor to take a look at you.” Scott checks his pocket watch, the hour hand now pointing seven.

 

At the mention of doctor, however, Jim’s face becomes rigid. “No, Scott, no doctors. I’m not that sick. I can handle this by myself and hopefully, I’ll be able to find a ticket leaving to England this afternoon.”

 

“Jim, it has just past seven. You can’t travel in the condition you’re in right now. You need to rest at least for a couple days. If you insist on leaving to England as soon as possible, then I insist that you see a doctor.” Scott’s voice is firm and leaves no space for argument.

 

“No doctors.” Jim pushes.

 

“Then you leave when you get better.” Scott presses his finger to Jim’s chest as if to emphasize his point. “See a doctor or stay and rest.”

 

After a few long seconds of staring at each other, stubbornness written on both of their faces, Jim lets a frustrated groan and pushes Scott’s finger away. “I’ll rest.” He mutters and Scott smiles in victory.

 

“Go back to sleep then. You need to get plenty of rest before you get on the ship filled with people and God knows what else.” Scott pulls the blanket over the both of them and runs his fingers through Jim’s hair.

 

“I really like it when you do that.” Jim whispers, his warm breath tickling Scott’s face.

 

“Stay with me.” He whispers once more and Scott answers, “Always.”

 

It doesn’t take long until Jim falls asleep and this time, much more peacefully than last time. Scott continues to touch the other man’s hair. He looks tired, but the smile continues to linger on his face. When Scott hears Jim softly snoring, he gets out of bed and quietly dresses. He washes quickly in cold water and when he’s done, he makes sure that the heater is working so Jim can have a nice, warm sleep.

 

Before he turns to leave, Scott turns once more to look at Jim. He laughs at himself, shamelessly admitting how blindly he’s in love with Jim, as he walks back to him to plant a kiss on his forehead.

 

“I’ll be back soon. Sleep in peace.” He whispers in his ears and leaves the apartment.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slow updates are slow. Sorry!

**Author's Note:**

> *Also posted on [tumblr](http://ambiguouslines.tumblr.com/).
> 
> Reviews and comments are greatly appreciated!


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